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BRIEFS   BY  A   BARRISTER 


OCCASIONAL  VERSES 


BY 


EDWARD  R.  JOHNES 


NEW    YORK 

G.     P.    PUTNAM'S    SONS 

182    FIFTH   AVENUE 
1879. 


tllBUlW 


COPYRIGHT  BY 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS. 
1879 


fy3 


TO 


HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW 


480 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/briefsbybarristeOOjohnrich 


PREFACE. 

The  poems  contained  in  this  volume  have  been 
written  at  different  times  as  fancy  suggested  a  sub- 
ject and  time  permitted  its  elaboration.  A  desire 
that  the  fruits  of  my  labor  should  not  be  scattered 
and  lost,  together  with  a  certain  literary  ambition 
have  led  to  the  publication  of  this  volume. 

My  title  is  intended  more  to  assert  the  often 
denied  right  of  the  Bar  to  express  itself  otherwise 
than  in  prose,  than  to  mark  the  character  of  my 
verses,  which  were  composed  largely  as  relaxation 
from  professional  duties. 

Previous  to  the  dedication  of  this  book  I  wrote 
to  Mr.  Longfellow  the  following  letter  : 

My  Dear  Mr.  Longfellow  : 

The  pleasure  and  advantage  that  I  have  derived  from 
your  works  and  the  delight  that  I  have  experienced  in  your 
society,  make  me  desirious  of  dedicating  my  first  literary  ven- 
ture to  you.  I  enclose  the  corrected  proof  that  I  may  with 
better  grace  request  your  permission  to  inscribe  it  to  you.  I 
know  the  dedication  can  add  no  lustre  to  your  name,  and 
simply  ask  that  I  may  add  honor  to  my  own. 

Yours,  sincerely,  &c., 


vi  PREFACE. 

In  response  to  this  I  have  had  the  honor  of  re- 
ceiving a  most  kind  letter  from  Mr,  Longfellow, 
expressing  his  willingness  to  accept  the  compliment, 
as  he  is  good  enough  to  call  it,  of  my  dedication  ; 
so  that  I  am  at  least  not  chargeable  with  a  forced 
dedication. 

I  now  commit  my  little  book,  with  mingled  feel- 
ings of  hope  and  fear,  to  the  critics  and  the  public. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS. 


The  Fancy  Ball 

3 

The  Horoscope       .... 

7 

The  Outcast     .... 

9 

At  Home  and  at  the  "German" 

II 

A  Morning  Welcome   . 

.       13 

Another's     ..... 

15 

x\t  Last  ..... 

17 

The  Last  Night  at  Home 

20 

My   Kate            .... 

.       23 

The  Midnight  Chime,  Jan.  i 

25 

•'After"             .... 

.         29 

Drifting       ..... 

31 

The  Caique 

.       35 

Album  Verses           .... 

38 

L'Envoy  ..... 

.       40 

The  Law  and  the  Lady  . 

42 

Honest  Lawyers 

.       42 

Just  as  You  Are     .... 

43 

"A  Rose  You  Gave"  . 

.       44 

The  Porte  Bonheur 

46 

Yesterday,  To-day  and  Forever 

.       48 

The  Coming  of  the  Frost 

49 

CONTENTS. 


Alternatives     . 

Lost  . 

The  Fountain  of  Fijeh 

King  Carnival 

The  Blighted  Flower 

The  Masquerade    . 

Morning  Twilight 

Drinking  Song 

"  Rest  My  Baby  Queen  " 

When  She  is  Gay  . 

Fountain  Abbey 

Fate  . 

Lydia 

Flowers  of  Palestine 


53 

55 
59 

62 

65 
67 

75 
77 
79 
8i 

83 

QO 

91 
95 


COLLEGE  POEMS. 


A  Vision  of  Autumn    . 

.        lOO 

Day  Dreams 

103 

Our  Songs          .... 

106 

A  Dollar  or  So      . 

108 

Disconsolate     .... 

.     no 

A  Geological  Romance     . 

III 

The  Spirit  of  Sadness 

.    116 

On  the  Bay 

118 

Parting  Ode      .... 

121 

BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 


THE    FANCY   BALL. 

The  queen  will  go  to  the  fancy  ball 

Where  gallants  are  noble,  and  ladies  are  fair, 

And  has  singled  me  out  from  her  courtiers  all. 
And  has  deigned  to  demand  of  me  "  what  shall  I 
wear  ?" 

For  music  will  sound  and  glasses  will  clink 
And  diamonds  will  gleam  and  lights  will  flare. 

And  care  will  be  drowned  in  the  goblet's  brink, 
And  laughter  ring  out  on  the  summer  air. 

And  the  crowning  glory  must  be  the  Queen, 
Decked  in  a  costume  ne'er  worn  before. 

Half  masked,  but  revealed  by  her  stately  mien 
And  the  face  that  her  subjects  are  glad  to  adore. 


4         ^  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

What  shall  she  wear — when  a  new  disguise 
To  her  can  be  only  a  duplicate  charm, 

To  blend  with  her  smile,  and  the  flash  of  her  eyes, 
And  to  thrill  her  subjects  with  novel  alarm? 

Disguise — ah  me,  is  the  moon  disguised 

Because    the    thin    clouds    that    are   wafted   o'er 
heaven 

Float  over  her  face  ?     Nay,  the  angels  devised 
A  change  that  increases  the  glory  of  even. 

But  what  shall  she  wear  ?     'Tis  a  difficult  task 
When  like  al'baster  lamp  with  the  light  shining 
through. 
She  would  shine  through  her  costume.     Ah  why  did 
she  ask 
A  question  to  make  even  CEdipus  blue  ! 

Shall  she  go  like  summer,  in  crown  of  flowers, 
Or  glitter  like  winter  in  shimmering  spray  ? 

Nay,  her  smile  is  our  summer  through  all  the  hours, 
And  winter  is  frosty  and  chilling  and  grey. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  5 

The  maid  of  the  lake  comes  next  to  my  mind 

Who  ruled  o'er  an  isle,  Oh  pitiful  thought 
When  she   reigns  o'er  the  warm  beating  hearts  of 
mankind 
And  o'er   such   a    realm    her  enchantment  hath 
wrought. 

Now  fact  is  prosaic,  romance  is  unreal, 

Book  queens  are  unlucky  and  subjects  are  low, 

Religion  and  science  refuse  to  reveal 

Where  to  look  for  her  masque^  so  where  shall  I  go? 

I  will  go  to  the  queen,  where  she  sits  on  a  throne, 
Where'er  she  may  be,  her  palace  is  there, 

With  a  fan  for  a  sceptre,  and  then  I  shall  own 
My  utter  disgrace,  and  my  shame  I'll  declare. 

I'll  say — I  will  tell  her — I  dare  not  suggest 

What  robe  she  shall  wear,  for  the  thought  should 
come 

From  herself,  and  then  it  were  surely  the  best, 
For  when  she  approves,  the  critics  are  dumb. 


6  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

And  whatever  her  choice,  I  would  fain  be  there 
To  feast  my  eyes  and  to  tangle  my  heart 

In  the  silken  Aveb  of  her  shining  hair. 

And  linger  the  last  when  the  throngs  depart. 

And  long  may  she  reign,  our  queen  and  our  pride, 
O'er    the    hearts  where   she's   throned  with   each 
holiest  thought. 

Here's  defeat  to  her  rivals,  and  sorrow  betide 
Who  says  that  she  lacks  of  perfection  in  aught  ! 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 


THE  HOROSCOPE. 

To  ev^ery  one  at  birth  God  gives  a  star, 
A  guide,  a  guard,  the  mirror  of  his  soul, 

Casting  its  radiant  influence  afar 

And  marking  tides  of  passion  as  they  roll. 

The  power  of  love,  the  blaze  of  cruel  ire, 

Actions  that  turn  on  changing  hopes  and  fears, 

We  find  reflected  in  the  heavenly  fire. 

And  all  our  deeds  are  known  among  the  spheres 

Alas,  that  ever  hope  and  love  should  die 

In  human  breast ;  alas  that  wrath  should  scorch 

Till  from  the  heavenly  index  quick  should  fly 
Pure  gentle  light — leaving  a  smouldering  torch  ! 

And  if  inactive  grows  the  torpid  soul; 

Ah  piteous  sight !  the  star  we  love  grows  dim 
And  quenched  the  radiance  of  the  celestial  pole 

It  sinks  forever  'neath  the  horizon's  brim. 


8  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

Maid  of  my  heart  I've  seen  in  yonder  sky 
The  star  whose  placid  light  doth  image  thee, 

'Mid  thousand  glories  my  discerning  eye 
Selects  the  mirror  of  thy  purity. 

Dear  star  be  ever  bright  and  ever  pure 

Guide  in  the  night  her  footsteps  to  her  home, 

Bid  her  not  let  the  darker  paths  allure 

And  gild  her  brow  when  she  hath  ceased  to  roam. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 


THE  OUTCAST. 
No  more  I  live,  but  only  suffer  life, 
No  more  I  sleep,  but  writhe  in  awful  dreams, 
And  joy  and  peace  are  dead,  and  earth  is  rife 
With  many  a  mockery  that  smiling  seems. 

A  veil  the  future  screens,  I  dare  not  lift. 
Yet  as  the  winds  of  passion  move  its  folds. 
My  gloomy  hopes  to  hopeless  darkness  shift. 
And  my  soul  shudders  when  my  eye  beholds. 

Backward  I  turn  my  gaze,  and  find  remorse 
Reaching  with  vulture  claws  toward  my  heart, 
And  grief  and  agony,  and  many  a  corse 
Of  buried  days,  that  from  me  will  not  part. 

Above  I  turn,  and  find  the  heavens  black — 
He  whom  I  scorned  hath  blasted  with  his  curse 
The  stars  I  loved,  and  on  my  awful  track 
Dim,  lying  swamp-lights  lead  from  bad  to  worse. 


lO  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 

See,  where  I  tread,  the  scorpion  and  the  snake, 
Born  of  my  crimes,  arise  to  strike  and  kill ; 
And  mire  and  pits  my  wav'ring  courage  shake, 
And  spectres  from  deep  hell  my  life-blood  chill. 

Hedged  in  with  death  and  crime  and  visions  dread, 
Shut  out  from  love  and  peace,  from  light  and  God, 
Better,  O  mother,  had  I  been  born  dead. 
Than  born  the  curse  of  the  Almighty's  rod  ! 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  '    1 1 


AT  HOME  AND  AT  THE  ^^  GERMAN." 

You'll  seek  the  fireside  warm  to-night 

While  I,  in  fashion's  train, 
Win  watch  the  diamonds  glancing  bright, 

And  eyes  that  flash  again. 

You'll  find  a  golden  store  of  dreams 

And  recollections  fair 
Within  the  coals, — while  only  seems 

The  look  of  joy  I  wear. 

You'll  fill  your  mind,  and  warm  your  heart. 
With  thoughts  from  noble  books. 

But  I  will  guage,  in  folly's  mart, 
The  price  of  folly's  looks. 

When  I,  unsatisfied,  return 

From  bright  but  empty  show, 
To-morrow's  visage  looking  stern, — 

Within  my  mind  will  grow 


I  2  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

The  thought  that  fashion  pays  her  slaves 

Small  wages  at  the  best, 
And  early  rounds,  with  unknown  graves. 

The  lives  that  know  no  rest. 

And  so  I'd  rather  be  with  you, 

Discussing  e'en  a  sermon. 
Than  looking  gay,  but  feeling  blue, 

While  dancing  at  the  German. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  1 3 


A  MORNING  WELCOME. 

Before  the  footsteps  of  the  sun, 

Across  morn's  golden  threshold  run, — 

Before  he  lifts  the  mists  away 

That  curtain  earth  at  break  of  day, — 

Before  his  smiling  beams  confess 

Fair  Nature's  wondrous  loveliness, — 

He  colors  with  his  wondrous  dyes 

The  fleecy  clouds  that  fleck  the  skies, 

And  hails  the  beauty  of  his  queen 

With  amber,  crimson,  and  with  green. 

And  it  might  seem  a  gift  of  flowers 

Fresh  culled  from  Eden's  blooming  bowers. 

Strewn  wide  upon  an  azure  sjcy 

In  morn's  sweet  breath  their  perfumes  lie. 

And  so  before  I  enter  in 

To  where  my  Phyllis  lies  in  sleep, 

Before  I  lift  the  curtain  thin 

That  doth  soft  guard  above  her  keep, 


14  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 

Before  her  eyes  unclose,  so  filmy 

With  the  tangled  threads  of  dreams, 

Before  her  loving  kisses  thrill  me, 

And  life  a  blest  Arcadia  seems, 

I  bear  a  garland  of  fair  flowers. 

Kissed  by  the  sunbeams  and  the  showers, — 

To  welcome  from  the  land  of  dreams, 

— Her  cheeks  soft  flushed  with  roseate  gleams 

My  Phyllis, — thus  with  varied  dyes 

To  rival  Phoebus'  tinted  skies. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  I  5 


ANOTHER'S. 

Her  eyes  are  bright,  and  in  their  depths 

A  gentle  spell  I  see  ; 
They  sparkle,  but  alas,  the  truth  ! 

They  do  not  shine  for  me. 

Soft  are  her  lips — their  tempting  lines, 

Curved  like  a  Cupid's  bow, 
Invite  a  kiss,  but  I,  alas  ! 

Their  kisses  ne'er  shall  know. 

Her  cheeks — the  lily  and  the  rose 

Combined  there  seem  to  be  ; 
But  though  their  changing  beauty  charms, 

They  do  not  blush  for  me. 

Those  little  hands,  whose  velvet  touch 

Hath  power  for  joy  or  woe. 
They  charm  and  tempt,  but  I  in  love 

Their  pressure  may  not  know. 


1 6  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

I've  often  thought  ijiy  heart  would  know 

A  happiness  divine, 
That  life  would  all  unruffled  flow, 

If  only — she  were  mine. 

But  oh  I  know  'tis  sadly  true 

Possession  breaks  the  spell 
That  chains  to  many  lovely  things, 

As  many  hearts  could  tell. 

Farewell,  forever, — in  my  dreams, 

I'll  hold  thee  to  my  breast, 
And  feel  my  heaven  is  on  earth, 

By  thy  soft  hand  caressed. 

And  though  awaking  I  shall  find 

My  happiness  was  vain. 
Upon  its  memory  I  shall  live, 

Until  I  dream  again. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  17 


AT  LAST. 

Just  as  life's  little  day  draws  to  its  close, 
And  dim  and  ill-defined  the  landscape  grows 
That  I  have  loved  so  long  ;  just  as  the  night 
Spreads  its  dark  wings  before  my  fading  sight, 
My  soul  begins  to  see. 

And  from  my  spirit's  eye  the  scales  of  sin 

Fall  down  at  touch  of  death,  as  though  some  hand 

Had  burst  a  prisons's  door,  and  ushered  in 
A  throng  of  joyous  sunbeams  to  a  band 
Condemned — that  would  be  free. 

Is  it  death's  hand  that  openeth  mine  eyes  ? 

There's  that  within  the  touch  I've  known  before, 
In  times  of  suffering.     A  magic  lies 

In  its  soft  tenderness,  I  must  adore, 
If  it  my  Lord  should  be. 


1 5  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

Kind  death,  sweet  Lord,  to  let  me  see  the  world 
Enlarged  by  finer  sight,  until  my  soul, 

Though  with  the  speed  of  angel's  pinions  whirled, 
Scarcely  could  view  the  vast,  the  glorious  whole 
In  all  eternity. 

I  have  known  Nature  only  in  the  flowers 
Decking  her  locks,  or  in  the  tearful  showers 
That  told  me  when  she  wept.     Ne'er  has  mine  eyes 
Gazing  in  her's,  drunk  its  full  mystery  ; 
And  she  was  dumb  to  me. 

Or,  if  she  spoke,  the  meaning  still  was  strange  ; 

An  unknown  tongue  to  me,  a  man  unlearned 
In  things  so  deep,  so  dark,  the  widest  range 

Of  human  thought  has  but  a  taper  burned 
T'  enable  man  to  see. 

Where  lately  I  beheld  a  sturdy  oak. 

Or  rosebud  nodding  in  the  twilight  air, 
Now  I  perceive  that  forms  some  meaning  cloak  : 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  I9 

In  one  I  see  resolve,  in  one  a  prayer  ; 
And  the  winds  talk  to  me. 

O  purblind  wretch  !  how  much  I've  groping  passed  : 
How  much  of  beauty  have  my  wayward  feet 

Trampled  upon  ;  what  foolish  slights  I've  cast 
On  what  my  awakened  slight  deems  pure  and  sweet; 
And  now  my  thoughts  are  free 

To  view  the  past,  and  see  beyond  the  veil 

That  hung  before  mine  eyes  while  yet  I  deemed 

Life  precious.     How  little  now  avail 

Those  valued  joys.     Alas  !  they  only  seemed. 
Now,  Lord  I  turn  to  Thee. 

Thy  glories  call  my  willing  spirit  up  , 

Thy  love,  that  ope'd  my  eyes  to  Heaven's  light, 
Bids  me  dash  down  the  wine  of  pleasure's  cup, 

To  taste  with  Thee  eternal,  pure  delight 
Short  may  my  waiting  be. 


20  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 


THE  LAST  NIGHT  AT    HOME. 

Round  the  room  the  lamplight  floating, 
Folds  within  its  soft  embrace 

Many  dear  familiar  objects, 
Many  a  dear  familiar  face. 

And  I  hear  the  children's  voices. 
Laughing  out  in  gay  delight  ; 

All  around  is  love  and  comfort. 
Yet  I'm  very  sad  to-night. 

For  the  hours  fly  far  too  quickly. 
And  the  night  will  soon  be  gone  ; 

I  must  leave  upon  the  morrow, 
Ere  the  shadows  leave  the  lawn. 

And  the  strength  of  bitter  feeling 
More  than  words  can  ever  tell, 

Spends  itself  in  wistful  gazing 
On  the  forms  I  love  so  well. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  2 1 

Love  still  dearer  now  than  ever, 
For  the  knowledge  we  must  part, 

(Blessings  brighten  as  they're  flying) 
Will  be  felt  while  beats  a  heart. 

Oh,  thou  future  !  dim  and  gloomy, 

With  thy  whisperings  of  fate. 
Heard  by  us,  thy  airy  voices 

Ever  syllable  *^  too  late." 

Aye,  for  love  and  youth's  sweet  dreaming. 
Peace,  and  friendship's  bounteous  store 

And  for  all,  save  death  and  sorrow, 
'Tis  too  late — forevermore. 

There  are  words  that  are  half  spoken. 

There  are  tender  eyes  that  fill. 
Good-night  kisses, — all  are  vanished, 

And  the  night  is  dark  and  still. 

Oh  !  how  many  a  noble  impulse 
Throbs  its  way  into  the  light. 


22  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 

Gathers  half  its  power  and  purpose 
From  the  silence  of  the  night. 

And  I  felt  high  aspirations, 
That  will  last  where'er  I  roam, 

Kindled  'mid  the  mournful  silence 
Of  my  last  sad  night  at  home. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  23 


MY  KATE. 

In  the  splendor  of  satin  or  silk, 

With  a  train  a  yard  or  so  long, 
With  diamonds  that  glimmer  and  gleam 

With  hair — not  a  wave  of  it  wrong. 

In  short,  when  my  Kate  marches  forth 

To  an  opera,  dinner  or  ball. 
For  her  match  should  you  search  through  the  throng 

You  would  turn  up  your  nose  at  them  all. 

For  there's  such  an  ineffable  grace. 

Such  a  J^e  ne  sais  quoi^  in  her  air. 
That  amid  an  assemblage  of  queens 

You'd  avow  her  the  queenliest  there. 

But  nearer  and  dearer  than  this 

Is  a  style  that  the  world  never  sees. 
She  only  assumes  it  for  one, 

And  that  one  it's  certain  to  please. 


24  BRIEFS  BY  A   BARRISTER. 

*Tis  a  costume  of  loveliest  white. 

Set  off  by  slippers  of  blue, 
That  peer  from  her  robe  with  a  mite 

Of  a  foot  quite  entrancing  to  view. 

To  be  sure  her  hair  is  awry, 

But  its  meshes,  they  tangle  my  heart, 
And  the  curve  and  the  snow  of  her  neck 

Are  more  than  the  touches  of  art. 

The  diamonds  that  glance  in  her  eyes 
Are  more  than  the  jewels  she  wore, 

And  her  air,  and  her  regal  disguise — 
I  vote  them  a  horrible  bore. 

Should  you  ask  when  I  love  her  the  most 
My  answer  were  speedily  said, — 

'Tis  just  as  she  smiles  on  me  now 
'Tis  just  before  going  to  bed. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  2$ 


THE  MIDNIGHT  CHIME,  JAN   i. 

In  cold  and  darkness,  and  alone. 
The  year  is  dead  ;  the  mingled  tone 
Of  joy  ^nd  sorrow  from  the  bells, 
Woven  of  welcomes  and  farewells, 
Sounds  on  the  night. 

Those  bells  have  rung  for  many  a  year, 
And  as  their  changeful  notes  I  hear, 
I  catch  an  echo  from  the  past, 
I  hear  the  future  years  forecast, 
Both  bloom  and  blight. 

Their  tone  is  joyful  as  they  tell 
How  bound  in  wedlock's  mystic  spell 
Two  hearts  were  joined  for  weal  and  woe 
Roses  and  thorns  together  grow, 
But  sweet  the  chime. 


26  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

They  tell  of  beauty  and  of  youth, 
Of  ardent  hope  and  glorious  truth, 
Of  laughter,  music,  and  the  joy 
That  filled  each  heart,  without  alloy, 
Oh  halcyon  time  ! 

Then  sad  their  tone — for  there  below 
Lay  one  who  died  in  health's  fresh  glow, 
And  the  bells  mourn  for  every  tear 
That  fell  upon  that  flower-decked  bier. 
And  seem  to  sigh. 

They  mourn  for  sickness  and  for  pain. 
They  plead  against  man's  cold  disdain 
Of  poverty  ;  they  clang — for  crime 
Has  heard  the  sounding  of  their  chime 
With  undimmed  eye. 

Dear  chimes,  we  hear  again,  with  thee. 
Voices  that  now  are  still,  and  see 
Faces  that  earth  shall  know  no  more. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  2J 

And  treasures  gleaned  from  memory's  store 
That  last  for  aye. 

With  the  old  year  the  sadness  flies, 
The  sweet  and  joyous  notes  arise 
To  welcome  in  a  year  of  peace. 
Of  happiness  and  fair  increase, 
Hope  rules  alone. 

The  seed  must  die  for  flowers  to  blow  ; 
The  starlight  fades  for  morn  to  glow  ; 
The  old  year  dies,  but  in  his  place 
The  new  year  steps  with  youthful  grace 
Upon  his  throne. 

We  will  not  shade  that  sunny  brow 
With  wreath  of  gloomy  cypress  now  ; 
But  deck  him  with  a  mantle  bright, 
And  crown  with  rays  of  earliest  light, 
And  hail  his  reign: 


28  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 

Ring  out,  sweet  chimes  ;  the  reign  of  woe 
Is  ended — blessed  the  overthrow  ! 
Tell  to  the  clamorous  bells  that  sound 
In  echoing  joy* the  country  round, 

Peace  smiles  again. 
Slowly  melting  on  the  ear 
Sinks  the  cadence,  sweet  and  clear, 
Till  the  distance  gently  flings 
Soft  enchantment  on  the  wings 
Of  the  night-winds  as  they  bear 
Fainter  murmurs  on  the  air. 
But  as  kind  and  gentle  sleep 
'Gins  my  drowsy  eyes  to  steep, 
Angel  music  rising  seems, 
Such  as  heard  within  our  dreams. 
On  this  house  and  home,  O  God  ! 
Let  Thy  mercy  be  outpoured  ; 
Keep  our  bodies.  Power  Divine, 
Save  our  souls — for  both  are  Thine  : 
Grant  that  we  next  year  may  be 
Nearer  just  one  step  to  Thee. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  29  , 


"  AFTER." 

The  dance  is  ended,  the  music  is  still, 

And  the  merry  laughter  is  o'er  ; 
The  moonlight  is  gilding  the  wood  and  the  hill ; 

It  was  ne'er  so  bewitching  before. 

Over  the  young  and  the  happy  who  sleep, 
The  dream-god  is  weaving  his  spell. 

While,  waking,  I  gaze  on  the  starry  deep, 
And  hear  what  the  night-breezes  tell. 

The  story  they  breathe  is  old,  I  well  know, 

Yet  now  each  time  it  is  told. 
Of  a  meeting,  a  waltz,  of  whisperings  low. 

Of  moments  more  precious  than  gold. 

Of  a  homeward  walk  'neath  the  harvest  moon, 

A  block  or  so  out  of  the  way. 
Of  farewell's  ended,  alas  !  too  soon, 

By  propriety's  infamous  sway. 


30  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

'Tis  such  a  night  when  the  brownies  love 
To  dance  with  the  mischievous  fays, 

And  they  wove  a  spell  around,  above, 
As  they  wheeled  in  an  airy  maze. 

But  the  fairies  stopped  in  their  blithesome  round. 

The  little  ones  stopped  their  play, 
To  see  how  sadly  I  turned  to  gaze. 

How  slowly  I  strolled  away. 

And  so  I'm  alone  building  castles  fair, 
In  the  clouds  that  our  floating  above  ; 

For  the  drowsy  god  I've  never  a  care. 
He  flies  at  the  bidding  of  love. 

But  body  must  rest,  though  spirit  may  soar 

In  the  cloudland  realms  o'erhead. 
If  I  see  he7'  off  on  the  early  train 

Fd  better  be  off  to  bed. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  31' 


DRIFTING. 

Why  should  I  sow  this  seed  ? 

To-morrow  I  may  die,  then  what  avail 
Vain  hope  or  selfish  greed  ? 

Dull,  dreamless  heads  care  not  though  harvests 
fail. 

Why  should  I  toil  and  strive 

Beneath  the  hot  beams  of  the  angry  sun. 
If,  though  my  garden  thrive, 

I  may  not  taste  the  pleasure  I  have  won  ? 

Let  me  dream  on  my  dream, 

In  peaceful  langour  let  my  limbs  repose  ; 
'Tis  hard  to  breast  the  stream. 

But  sweet  to  glide  adown  it  as  it  flows. 

O  sweet,  thrice  sweet  to  see 

The  dark  green  branches  bow  above  the  tide, 


32  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

And  hear  sweet  melody 

Breathed  in  my  ears  as  onward  still  I  glide  : 

To  gaze  upon  the  sky, 

All  flecked  with  white  clouds  drifting  to  the  West, 
Till  through  a  loving  eye 

My  fancy  sees  the  islands  of  the  blest. 

Dull  care  is  left  behind, 

Sweet  peace  consoles  for  tumults  that  are  past  ; 
And  thornless  flowers  now  bind 

My  pillowed  head — why  do  they  fade  so  fast  ? 

Is  there  in  dreamland  aught 

That  fades  and  withers  like  the  things  of  earth  ? 
Can  death  e'er  conquer  thought  ? 

Then  were  my  spirit-kingdom  little  worth. 

Earth's  servants  travel  slow  ; 

Now,  at  the  faintest  beckoriing  of  my  will, 
The  sky  is  all  aglow 

With  bright-winged  slaves,  who  every  wish  fulfil. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  33^ 

Here  let  me  ever  live, 

Here  in  the  air-built  castles  of  my  brain  ; 
Such  joys  earth  ne'er  can  give, 
Earth  has  no  spells  like  these  to  banish  pain. 

But  hark  !  I  hear  a  sound 

As  if  of  many  waters,  in  mine  ear ; 
Dread  echoes  swell  around, 

Again  my  soul  awakens  unto  fear. 

Where  are  the  emerald  shores  ? 

Alas  !  far  faded  from  my  longing  sight  : 
A  veiling  mist  upsoars 

And  shuts  me  in  with  horror  and  with  night. 

The  torrent  bears  me  on. 

Powerless  to  reach  the  far,  the  lovely  shore  ! 
Forms,  spectre-like  and  wan. 

Rise  in  my  way.     O  !  had  I  waked  before  ! 

And  must  I  wake  to  die  ? 

Is  peace  an  enemy  sent  to  betray 


34  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 

The  king  of  earth  and  sky  ? 

And  can  my  reign  endure  but  one  short  day  ? 

Hopeless  !     Is  this  the  end 

Of  drifting  tranquiHty  adown  the  tide  ! 
There,  where  the  waters  blend, 

Eternity  doth  there  from  time  divide. 

Too  late  !  ah,  never  more 

To  tread  the  paths  I  loved,  ere  lying  fate 
loured  from  the  gentle  shore 

To  idle  dreaming ;  for  'tis  late,  too  late. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  35 


THE   CAIQUE. 

A  thing  as  light  and  free  as  air 
See  dancing  on  the  water  there — 
A  fairy  craft  of  hues  as  gay 
As  grace  the  Naiads'  holiday — 
With  graceful  curve  the  pointed  bow 
Shivers  the  liquid  crystal  now 
To  feathery  spray — now  dances  high 
As  if  it  lacked  but  wings  to  fly, — 
A  bubble  glancing  on  the  tide, 
The  ocean's  newest,  loveliest  bride 
That  scarcely  needs  the  bending  oar 
To  speed  it  to  the  curving  shore. 

Still  there  in  garb  with  rainbow  dyes 
The  stalwart  Greek  his  swift  oar  plies, 
And  boat  and  man  advancing  seem 
As  mirrored  in  the  sparkling  stream 
The  airy  fancies  of  a  dream. 


3^  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

With  such  a  boat  on  such  a  sea, 
Around  —  such  glorious  scenery,— 
What  sweeter  than  to  float  along 
And  let  the  winds'  aeolian  song 
Soft  measures  breathe  above  the  wave. 
While  deep  in  many  an  ocean's  cave 
From  mermaids'  harps  there  gently  creep 
The  songs  that  murmur  o'er  the  deep 
And  soothe  the  soul  to  peaceful  sleep. 

There  would  I  with  my  love  recline, 
And  pledging  to  our  love  divine 
In  brimming  cups  of  ruby  wine, 
I'd  lull  her  soul  to  ease  and  rest. 
Until,  with  love  and  wine  opprest 
She  pillowed  lay  upon  my  breast. 

Thus  idly  floating  on  for  aye, 
Beneath  the  tranquil  azure  sky. 
We'd  turn  each  sand  of  time  to  gold 
And  find  with  each  a  joy  inrolled. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  3/ 

No  thought  but  love,  no  love  but  one 
From  blush  of  morn  to  set  of  sun. 

We'd  scorn  the  dead — their  bones  are  cold, — 
Laugh  at  the  future, — 'tis  untold 
But  linger  in  the  present's  bliss, 
And  be  eternal  in  a  kiss. 


38.  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER 


ALBUM  VERSES. 
Far  o'er  the  world  I've  sought  for  fleeting  pleasure, 

'Mid  scenes  most  varied  and  'mid  people  strange 
And  hope  hath  promised  many  a  golden  treasure 

And  passion  led  me  o'er  wild  paths  to  range. 

But  phantom-like  the  charm  has  e'er  eluded 
My  outstretched  arms — I  will  no  longer  roam 

And  my  tired  heart  no  more  to  be  deluded 
Seeks  holy  calm  in  a  New  England  home. 


For  stranger's  eyes  I  simply  write  my  name, 
It's  place  within  your  book  its  only  fame. 
If  what  I  wrote  would  meet  your  eyes  alone 
What  I  would  write — ah  !  that  I  dare  not  own. 


I'll  not  attempt  such  compliments  to  pass 
As  I  beheld  within  your  book  of  late. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  39 

It  is  enough  to  say — gaze  in  your  glass, 
Mindful  meantime  of  fair  Narcissus'  fate. 


In  asking  me  to  write  herein 

My  humble  name,  you  pay  to  me 

A  sweet  and  graceful  compliment 

That  with  your  grace  doth  well  agree. 

But  by  my  faith,  I'm  not  amazed 

That  charming  compliments  you  pay, 

So  many  you  receive  yourself, 

It  is  not  strange  you've  learned  the  way. 


Lady  I  grieve  the  hour  of  parting  nears, 

Strangers  we  met  on  yester,  friends  we  part — 

The  growth  of  friendship  is  not  marked  by  years 
But  by  the  warm  impulses  of  the  heart. 


40  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 


L'ENVOY. 

To  pay  a  clerk 
For  pleasant  work 

Would  surely  be  a  folly, 
But  rather  he 
Should  pay  a  fee 

For  sinecure  so  jolly. 

And  so  I  send 

To  you  fair  friend 
A  bunch  of  flowers  gay, 

Please  put  amount 

To  the  account 
Of  debts  I  cannot  pay. 

These  roses  bright 
Were  once  pure  white, 
Yet  what  to  them  I  said, 
Made  color  rush 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  4 1 

With  mantling  blush, 
And  now  you  see  they're  red. 

Just  put  the  tips 

Of  their  red  lips 
Up  to  your  listening  ear, 

Perhaps  they'll  tell 

A  message  well 
I  fain  would  have  you  hear. 


42  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 


-      THE  LAW  AND  THE  LADY. 

Marriage  at  best  is  but  a  lottery 
And  we,  according  to  the  chance  we  draw, 
Regard  with  smiles  or  frowns  the  ties  that  bind  us 
And  curse  or  bless  the  lady  and  the  law. 


HONEST  LAWYERS. 

To  prove  that  lawyers  honest  are 
In  vain  alas  you  try 
While  truth  may  be  within  their  words 
Their  actiojis  always  lie. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  43 


JUST  AS  YOU  ARE. 

As  I  stop  amid  my  plodding, 

Gazing  down  youth's  joyous  track, 

Could  I  catch  old  Tempus  nodding, 
I  would  turn  his  dial  back. 

When  ambition  is  my  master, 
Hope  of  future  fame  elates, 

And  I'd  make  Time's  sands  run  faster. 
Bearing  on  where  glory  waits. 

But  when  to  the  dulcet  viol 

You  dance  sparkling  like  a  star, 

Then  I'd  like  to  smash  Time's  dial 
Just  to  keep  you  as  you  are. 


44  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 


''  A  ROSE  YOU  GAVE." 

After  Ben.  Jonson. 
Lady  to  me  a  rose  you  gave 

Red  as  those  lips  of  thine, 
With  such  resemblance  'tis  not  strange 

I've  pressed  it  oft  to  mine. 

Soft  is  the  rose  leaf,  but  thy  cheek, 

Is  softer  and  more  fair 
And  love  and  peace  and  winning  mirth 

Lurk  in  the  dimples  there. 

Some  say  they  catch  within  a  rose 
A  glimpse  of  Heaven's  skies 

I'm  not  the  only  one  who  sees 
A  Heaven  in  thine  eyes. 

Ah,  laughing  eyes  that  can  grow  sad 
Now  gay  and  now  how  meek 

Your  language  sweeter  far  than  words 
How  can  I  gaze  and  speak. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  45- 

Thou  know'st  not,  lady,  what  a  world 

In  little  things  I  see 
If  only  't  is  thy  hand  bestows 

A  little  gift  on  me. 

To  thee  this  rose  is  but  a  flower 

That  withers  in  a  day  ; 
To  me  a  fragrant  memory 

And  that  will  last  for  aye. 


46  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 


THE  PORTE  BONHEUR. 

Go,  little  plaything,  to  her  snowy  wrist, 
And  round  it  hang,  and  clasp  it  joyously, 

She  will  not  chide  thy  silvery  laugh,  I  wist. 
It  chimes  and  echoes  hers  so  truthfully. 

Sport,  little  circlet,  with  her  dimpled  hand. 
And  when  she  dreams,  oh  press  it  tenderly. 

And  strive  to  make  my  lady  understand 

They  are  not  dumb  whose  lips  move  silently. 

Tell  her  that  deepest  thoughts  can  never  find 
The  garb  of  words  ;  and  they  play  donbtingly 

Who,  losing,  must  lose  all,  and  be  resigned 
To  travel  ever  'neath  a  shadow,  wearily. 

Ring,  pretty  bells  that  grace  this  amulet. 
Warning  from  danger,  or  to  joy  inviting ; 

And  when  the  shadows  crowd,  and  sun  is  set, 
Chime,  sweetly  chime,  her  dreaming  thoughts  de- 
lighting. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  47 

And,  porte  bonheur,  what  e*er  thy  queen  may  do, 
Do  not  belie  thy  name — and  happily 

Thou  may'st  instruct  me  by  what  means  to  woo 
A  smile  from  her  whose  smile  is  melody. 


48  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 


YESTERDAY,  TO- DAY,  AND  FOREVER. 

But  3^esterday  't  was  summer,  and  the  sky 

Was  clear,  and  love  was  wafted  on  the  air ; 
Youth  smiled  on  joy,  hope  sparkled  in  my  eye, 
And  life  seemed  fair. 

To-day  *t  is  winter,  and  the  clouds  drop  rain, 
Winds  rave,  my  heart  is  filled  with  fear  and  hate. 
Age  frowns  on  joy,  hope  flies  from  tearful  pain  : 
Death,  thou  art  late. 

Forever  thus  on  Time's  remorseless  tide 

Must  we  drift  onward,  'till  our  sorrows  given 
Curse  us  with  bitterness  or  gently  guide 
Our  souls  to  heaven. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  49 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  FROST. 

*'  Bring  out  your  dead  !  "     That  was  the  only  sound 
That  broke  the  silence  of  the  Sunday  morn. 
"Bring   out   your   dead,''   the  wagons  make  their 

round — 
And  to  their  hasty  tombs  the  dead  are  borne. 

The  air  was  warm  that  sad  October  day 
And  to  the  sun  the  blushing  peach-trees  gave 
A  springtide  welcome,  nature's  mask  was  gay, 
But  every  lovely  blossom  marked  a  grave.* 

Long  had  the  fever  raged  within  our  town, 
And  hope  was  weary,  and  the  hand  of  God, 
Seen  in  the  pestilence,  struck  households  down. 
And  oh  't  was  hard  to  bless  the  cruel  rod. 


*  "  The  weather  has  been  warm  and  springlike  so  long  that 
the  peach  trees  are  in  bloom." — Dispatch  from  New  Orleans, 


50  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

The  grass  sprung  up  within  the  busy  mart, 
And  rank  weeds  grew,  while  in  the  tainted  air 
Swarms  of  strange  buzzing  insects  float  and  dart 
And  die  in  myriads — death  is  everywhere. 

*'  God  send  a  frost,"  we  cried.     "  God  send  a  frost. 
Lest  we  all  perish  ;  "  but  our  sobbing  prayer 
Upon  the  stifling  autumn  breeze  was  lost 
And  a  perpetual  knell  rang  through  the  air. 

By  Edith's  bed  v/e  sat,  Dinah  and  I, 
Dinah  the  faithful  nurse  and  I  still  weak 
With  grief  and  fever,  caring  but  to  die 
If  I  could  no  more  hear  my  Edith  speak. 

For  death  had  drawn  his  clouds  across  my  sky 

And  Edith  was  the  only  star  that  shone 

To  light  my  life,  a  very  Rachel  I, 

A  widowed  Rachel,  lonely,  faint  and  wan. 

No  sound  was  heard  within  the  quiet  room 
Save  the  clocks  ticking  or  the  uneasy  call 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  5  I 

Of  our  sick  darling,  and  the  evening's  gloom 
Curtained  the  sultry  landscape  like  a  pall. 

And  then  I  fell  asleep  within  my  chair 
And  thought  it  was  a  dream,  a  horrid  dream 
This  deadly  scourge,  yet  somehow  did  not  dare 
To  ope  my  eyes  and  prove  it  did  but  seem. 

At  last  I  woke  and  felt  so  icy  cold, 

I  thought  the  fever's  clutches  on  me  still 

And  shuddered,  thinking  that  my  hours  were  told — 

And  yet  it  seemed  the  air  was  strangely  chill. 

'T  was  early  dawn  and  Dinah,  wearied,  slept ; 

Where  Edith  lay,  a  lily  pale  and  weak, 

A  tiny  sunbeam  rested,  it  had  crept 

Through  the  closed  lattice  and  it  kissed  her  cheek. 

In  the  dim  room  it  seemed  a  heavenly  guest, 
First  of  a  throng  whose  radiant  forms  outside. 
Pressed  close  to  enter  on  some  holy  quest. 
And  so  I  stole  and  threw  the  lattice  wide. 


52  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

And  oh  what  glory  met  my  joyful  sight — 
The  landscape  covered  with  a  silver  sheen 
Glowed  splendidly  in  morning's  rosy  light, 
And  diamonds  flashed  amid  the  bushes  greea 

"  Awake  !  "  I  cried,  ^'  for  God  hath  sent  the  frost, 
The  blessed  frost,  to  save  us  all  from  death  ; 
Awake,  good  Dinah,  Edith  is  not  lost, 
Hope  has  come  back  in  autumn's  frosty  breath." 

And  on  our  knees  we  fell  beside  her  bed, 
Sobbing  with  joy  in  happy  thankful  prayer, 
Until  she  woke — and  a  faint  glow  had  spread 
Upon  a  face  that  smiled  away  our  care. 

Fast  through  the  town  the  joyful  tidings  spread. 
And  bells  were  rung,  and  happy  greetings  waved, 
And  heavy  hearts  forgot  to  mourn  their  dead, 
Rejoicing  with  the  living  who  were  saved. 

And  while  I  live  the  coming  of  the  frost 
Will  mark  a  day  by  sorrow  undefiled, 
A  friend  in  need  when  friends  were  needed  most- 
It  stopped  the  pestilence  and  saved  my  child. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  53 


ALTERNATIVES. 

You  who  can  read  the  cipher  that  the  past 

Has  wrought  upon  the  future's  misty  veil, 
Can  know  how  long  will  smiling  pleasure  last, 

And  how  long  sorrow  press  with  grasp  of  mail,- 
If  dream  you  can,  dream  on,  a  sombre  thread 

Of  reason  woven  in  your  visions  fair. 
But  if  by  fickle  fancy  you  are  led, 

Soon  will  your  hopes  melt  into  viewless  air. 

You  who  can  look  within  a  woman's  heart. 

Can  solve  that  Sphinn's  riddle  graven  there — 
Perceive  each  cunning  and  deceptive  art, 

Love  on,  '  twere  vain  to  say  to  you,  beware  ! 
But  if  you  bow  to  beauty's  power  alone. 

Dazed  by  the  sparkling  of  a  hazel  eye, 
Too  late  you  find,  with  passion's  witchery  flown, 

A  serpent's  hiss  is  hid  within  a  sigh. 


54  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 

Let  him  laugh  on  who  lives  but  for  to-day, 

Whom  folly  leads  amid  her  thoughtless  throng, 
A  nerveless  mass  of  cold  and  sluggish  clay. 

Not  moved  by  beauty  nor  aroused  by  wrong  ; 
None  else  can  laugh,  but  hears  within  the  sound 

A  tone  of  bitter  sorrow,  of  farewell, 
A  death-note  to  the  happiness  around 

Recalling  him  to  griefs  he  knows  too  well. 

Let  him  quaff  on,  who  longs  and  prays  to  die, 

Whose  peace  and  hope  and  love  are  buried  all 
Who  thinks  all  life  a  hollow  mockery, 

A  gloomy  land  where  mournful  shadows  fall. 
Or  let  him  find  when,  from  the  festal  cup 

Youth's  fair  enchantment  's  gone,    the    draught 
grows  flat, 
And  see  within  the  goblet  mirrored  up, 

A  leering  spectre  that  he  trembles  at. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  5 5 


LOST. 

Weary  I  rise  from  off  my  sorrow's  couch, 

And  gaze  upon  the  shadows  as  they  grow 

And  lengthening  blend,  and  see  the  twilight  shroud 

The  earth  as  sadness  has  my  loving  heart. 

She  has  not  come,  although  the  stars  have  marched 

In  solemn  majesty  across  the  sky. 

And  birds  have  hailed  the  glory  of  the  dawn 

Since  she  departed.     Oh  that  thoughtless  word, 

Spoken  in  anger,  born  of  jealousy. 

Regretted  ere  the  portals  of  my  lips  it  left. 

But  now  a  bitterness  eternally, 

I  can  recall  it  never,  nevermore. 

One  word,  ''^depart''  has  driven  from  my  home 

The  only  thing  that  made  a  home  for  me. 

And  desolation  takes  its  drear  abode 

Beside  the  hearth  whereon  the  fire  hath  died. 

Last  night  I  sleepless  tossed,  and  would  have  prayed 

Had  I  not  feared  that  God  would  deem  my  prayers 


56  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

As  self-inflicted  curses, — so  I  moaned 

And  wished  for  day,  and  when  the  morning  fell 

Upon  the  pillow  where  she  used  to  lie, 

Then  did  I  curse  the  day  that  made  me  see 

I  was  alone,  and  e'en  forbade  my  soul 

The  respite  of  a  fancy  or  a  dream 

That  she  was  by  my  side.     I  shut  my  eyes 

And  as  I  sit  in  her  accustomed  place 

Lost  deep  in  musings,  I  could  swear  I  heard 

The  merry  music  of  her  pattering  feet, — 

But  when  I  turn,  silence  resumes  its  reign, 

And  the  dead  weight  again  falls  on  my  heart. 

"  Oh,  little  one,"  I  cry,  "  my  eyes  are  wet 

With  love  that  dares  not  hope  for  love  again. 

Oh  my  soul's  darling  "  could  you  see  these  cheeks 

Grown  pale  and  cold  while  watching  your  return. 

Could  I  but  speak  an  instant,  sure  your  heart 

Would  deem  one  word  by  far  too  small  a  thing 

To  blight  a  home,  and  sever  loving  hearts." 

But  oh  !  I  fear  to  all  things  of  earth 

Your  ears  are  deaf  forever  ;  and  remorse 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  57 

Hears  in  each  breath  of  air  that  moves  the  trees 

A  sobbing  ?ms&eW  ox  a  sigh. 

So  if  my  watching  is  of  no  avail, 

If  steeped  in  sorrow  all  my  life  must  be, 

If  gall  must  be  my  spirits  only  food, 

And  heart  to  heart  I  never  may  enfold 

Her  who  was  food  and  drink  unto  my  soul, 

If  day  and  night  must  follow  day  and  night 

In  monotone  unending  till  the  day 

When  I  must  hide  my  sorrows  in  the  tomb 

And  lay  me  down  to  rest  from  pain  at  last. — 

Oh  God,  if  I  must  wait  and  bear  the  woe 

So  long,  oh  heaven,  grant  my  sole  request 

The  only  one  these  impious  lips  will  make, — 

Let  it  not  be  forever.     Though  the  worm 

Destroy  our  bodies,  let  the  despairing  cry 

Of  thy  poor  creature,  reach  thy  pitying  ear, 

And  if  it  may  be,  let  her  spirit  know 

Within  that  dim  and  distant  land,  my  heart 

Has  only  throbbed  in  unison  with  hers. 

Heaven  without  her  were  to  me  a  hell, 


58  BRIEFS  BY  A   BARRISTER, 

And  even  hell  with  her  to  me  a  heaven. 
And  if  thy  mercy  and  thy  justice  live 
Let  not  man's  frailty  and  his  folly  blast 
Eternally,  a  soul  that  thou  hast  made. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  59, 


THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  FIJEH. 

[Not  far  from  Damascus  the  river  Abana  springs  from  the  hill-side  by 
a  ruined  temple  of  the  wood-ofod  Pan,  The  beauty  of  the  stream 
and  the  sad  solemnity  of  the  old  Roman  temple  by  its  side  suggested 
the  following  lines.] 

The  waters  gush  with  sudden  rush 

From  out  a  cavern  sounding, 
And  on  its  course  like  untamed  horse, 

A  crystal  stream  is  bounding. 

And  soon  in  play,  with  silvery  spray, 
And  foam  that  wreathes  and  whitens, 

Where  sunbeams  gleam  adown  the  stream, 
Abana's  water  brightens. 

Beside  the  flood  there  long  has  stood 

A  ruin  strange  and  hoary, 
And  by  its  door  the  waters  pour 

And  whisper  of  its  story. 

How  long  ago  the  rivers'  flow 
Swept  underneath  the  portal, 


6o  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

And  o'er  the  porch  the  sacred  torch 
Burned  with  its  fire  immortal, 

No  tablets  tell,  but  all  know  well 

That  solemn  pomp  attended 
'Y\\t  fasti ^  while  the  massive  pile 

Upreared  its  columns  splendid. 

By  moonlight  pale  in  haunted  dale 
The  nymphs  are  heard  complaining, 

Their  glories  flown,  their  shrine  o'erthrown, 
A  chaos  sad  remaining  ; 

With  ruined  walls  on  which  there  falls 

A  sunlight  rich  and  golden. 
And  shadows  deep  from  which  there  creep 

Dim  memories,  strange  and  olden. 

Thy  temple,  Pan,  the  work  of  man, 
Hath  crumbled  'neath  Time's  fingers, 

And  in  this  hour,  of  all  thy  power, 
A  fading  memory  lingers. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  6 1  . 

Yet  by  the  door  the  waters  pour 

Among  the  shadows  dancing, 
Still  fresh  and  clear  from  year  to  year 

Beneath  the  sunbeam's  glancing. 

Within  man's  mind,  methinks  I  find 

A  likeness  to  the  fountain, 
And  in  his  frame  I  see  the  same 

Strange  temple  by  the  mountain. 

Though  firm  and  grand  man's  work  may  stand, 

Ere  long  it  must  have  crumbled 
To  dust  away,  and  human  clay 

To  dust  must  too  be  humbled. 

But  from  the  hill  the  fountain  still 

As  now  will  flow  forever. 
And  to  its  goal  the  eternal  soul 

Sweeps  on — as  flows  the  river. 


62  BRIEFS  BV  A  BARRISTER. 


KING  CARNIVAL. 

Now  the  days  are  clear  and  bright 
And  the  stars  begem  the  night ; 
Ere  that  sable  Lent  be  come, 
Ere  the  lips  of  joy  are  dumb, 
Meet  it  is  that  one  and  all 
Homage  pay  King  Carnival. 

Born  three  thousand  years  ago, 
Rome  beheld  his  glories  grow, 
Pagan  Saturn's  favorite  child. 
Nature  joyous,  temper  mild. 
Pagans  turned  to  Christians,  fall 
At  the  feet  of  Carnival. 

He  is  such  a  merry  King, 
And  his  happiness  doth  fling 
On  his  court  all  glittering  bright 
Endless  radiance  of  delight. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  63 

And  he  firm  will  hold  his  seat 
Long  as  human  hearts  shall  beat. 

Carnival  reigns  in  disguise  ; 

E'en  the  color  of  his  eyes 

Change  and  change,  and  fresh  surprise 

Sees  each  new  illusion  rise. 

Now  he's  short  and  now  he's  tall. 

Now  a  devil,  now  a  priest. 
Golden  locks  or  white  hairs  fall 

O'er  a  grave  or  at  a  feast. 

Striped  dress  of  harlequin, 

Suit  grotesque  of  pantaloon, 
Squeeze  if  stout  and  stuff  if  thin, 

Not  to  be  discovered  soon. 
On  mystery  doth  gladly  fall 
The  laughing  eyes  of  Carnival. 

Brothers  for  the  shadow  striving, 
Take  the  substance  and  be  gay. 

Gloomy  lives  are  not  worth  living 
Do  not  cloud  life's  little  day  ; 


64  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

Doff  toil's  stiff  and  sombre  pall, 
Don  court  dress  for  Carnival. 

Smooth  the  wrinkles  from  your  faces, 
Dry,  of  grief  those  lingering  traces  ; 
Turn  time's  dial  gently  back, 
Wayward  roam  on  childhood's  track  ; 
Let  the  voice  of  pleasure  call 
Joyous  throngs  to  Carnival. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  65 


THE   BLIGHTED  FLOWER. 

There  grew  in  my  garden  a  flower, 

In  the  days  long  ago, 
And  bathed  in  the  sunshine  and  shower, 

My  heart  saw  it  grow. 

I  guarded  and  watched  it  with  care 
And  prayed  in  the  night, 

That  it  should  be  charming  and  fair 
Till  the  coming  of  light. 

I  laughed  at  the  storm  and  the  wind 

So  it  was  the  same 
Its  tendrils  more  dear  to  my  mind 

Than  the  voices  of  fame. 

For  all  my  existence  was  wrapped 

In  that  delicate  flower. 
By  its  side,  in  happiness  lapped, 

I  sat  hour  after  hour. 


^^  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

The  birds  sang  their  sweetest  of  lays, 
And  to  it  in  the  gloom 

The  voice  of  the  wind  seemed  in  praise 
Of  its  wondrous  perfume. 

In  the  garland  Sandalphon  doth  bear 
Of  prayers  into  Heaven, 

To  none  of  the  flowers,  even  there 
Such  beauty  is  given. 

I  mingled  my  breath  with  its  breath, 

Its  life  was  my  all, 
I  thought  not  the  footsteps  of  death 

Could  e'er  on  it  fall. 

But  unguarded  I  left  it  by  night. 

When  the  Autumn  was  mild, 

And  the  chill  frost  came  in  its  might. 
And  it  murdered  my  child. 

And  the  glory  I  worshipped  was  gone. 
All  faded  the  leaves — 

And  the  flower  in  my  garden  was  wan 
As  the  pale  Autumn  sheaves. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  57 


THE  MASQUERADE. 

I  stood  amid  a  throng 

Of  dames  and  gallants  proudly  dressed, 
And  there  was  light  and  song, 

And  joy  was  brimming  in  each  breast  ; 
Time  bound  his  hour-glass  with  a  wreath  of  flowers, 
Whose  opening  beauties  marked  alone  the  hours. 

Ah,  there  were  starry  eyes 

To  light  the  soul  to  heaven  or  hell, 
And  lips  whose  crimson  dyes 
The  eager  soul  of  passion  tell ; 
And  there  were  rounded  arms,  and  necks  of  snow 
And  cheeks  soft  mantling  with  youth's  rosy  glow. 

It  was  a  goodly  sight 

But  fairer  still  it  was  to  be, 
For  soon  upon  the  night 

Poured  forth  such  melody 


68  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

That  its  sweet  flowing  torrent  whelmed  the  soul, 
And  love  and  pleasure  seemed  life's  only  goal. 

And  through  the  gorgeous  hall 

The  gay  dance  spirit  'gan  to  move 
Kindling  the  hearts  of  all, 

Teaching  the  willing  feet  to  rove. 
Till  all  is  motion,  all  is  brimming  life 
Where  grace  and  beauty  meet  in  charming  strife. 

Amd  oh  that  music's  swell 

Sadder  than  angel  choirs,  may  give. 
Sweeter  than  mortal  lips  can  tell  * 

Grander  than  hearts  may  feel  and  live — 
'T  was  bitter  sweet,  uniting  hopes  and  fears, 
And  when  we  laughed,  our  cheeks  were  wet  with 
tears. 

But  as  I  gazed  around 

Dazed  by  the  splendor  of  the  sight, 
And  felt  my  pulses  bound 

And  followed  fancy's  daring  flight. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  6g. 

Lo  and  behold  the  scales  fell  from  my  eyes, 

The  scene  was  changed — I  stood  in  dumb  surprise 


AVhere  is  thy  beauty  now 

Oh  maiden  with  the  sunny  hair  ? 
Upon  thy  marble  brow — 

The  tomb  has  set  its  signet  there, 
Where  lately  danced  the  laughter-loving  eyes 
I  see  a  loathsome  cave  where  dread  corruption  lies. 

Think'st  thou  a  rose  in  bloom 

Nods  o'er  thy  graceful,  pretty  head  ? 
A  flower  that  loves  the  tomb. 

It  is  the  night-shade,  bloody  red  ; 
Why  of  thy  silken  dress  art  thou  so  proud. 
Art  thou  quite  sure  thou  wearest  not  a  shroud  ? 

Oh  snowy  heaving  breast 

That  bearest  hopes  as  ocean  ships 

And  storms  in  mad  unrest 

With  lovers'  warmly  meeting  lips 


70  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

Sink,  sink  thy  hopes,  thy  love  will  follow  fast, 
And  time  will  hide  thee  in  his  sands  at  last. 

The  burning  sighs  of  love 

And  warmer  kisses  do  consume 
In  kindling,  hearts  that  move 
With  warming  glory  through  life's  mournful 
gloom 
Like  burning  vessels  on  their  watery  tomb 
Their  brighter  splendor  is  more  certain  doom. 

The  rounded  limbs  of  youth 

The  glorious  forms  that  wooed  the  eye 
The  cruel  hand  of  truth 

Hath  stripped  them  of  their  majesty — 
What  substance  does  thy  clearer  judgment  own 
A  little  tissue,  and  a  little  bone. 

Lustre  of  golden  hair^ 

'T  will  rust  that  now  so  brightly  gleams 
Rose  blent  with  lily  fair 

They  fly  more  fast  than  hopeful  dreams  ; 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  Jl 

The  buoyant  step  that  lightly  skims  the  floor 
'T  will  falter  soon — too  soon  be  heard  no  more. 

It  is  a  masquerade 

Where  Grief  and  Woe  I  plainly  see 
Acting  'mid  lights  that  fade, 
With  hollow  laugh  a  mockery 
Of  joy  and  glittering  prosperity, 
While  scalding  tears  down  trickle  silently. 

Oh  yes,  a  masquerade 

Where  Falsehood  bears  the  garb  of  Truth 
Vice  trips  it  as  a  maid 

Age  wears  the  garb  of  hopeful  Youth, 
And  dire  Disease  scarce  hides  its  loathsome  dress. 
Under  the  cloak  of  healthful  loveliness. 

The  form  of  Power  I  saw 

Towering  above  the  throng,  and  blood 
Spotted  his  dress,  and  Law 

Cowered  trembling  behind  him  as  he  strode  \ 
But  'mid  his  train  did  Treason  play  a  part 
And  crouched  with  dagger  pointed  at  his  heart. 


72  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

And  they  did  hold  as  real 

The  beauty,  happiness  and  light, 
Nor  saw  the  slow  hours  steal 

From  ebbing  life  some  dear  delight 
But  led  by  hope  they  ever  turned  their  eyes, 
Dim  with  vain  watching,  to  the  future  skies. 

And  as  I  saw  all  this 

And  mocked  in  keen  satiric  vein 
The  farce  that  pleasure  is, — 
I  stood  before  a  mirror  free  from  stain, 
Wherein  I  saw  what  did  my  soul  appall 
That  reason's  farce  was  bitterer  than  all. 

Trembling  I  turned  my  eyes 

To  where,  above  the  eddying  throng 
Aloft  I  saw  arise 

The  throne  of  music  and  of  song 
Thence  came  the  sounds  whose  maddening  cadence 

fell 
O'er  human  heart-strings — a  compelling  spell. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  73 

There  played  a  spectre  host 

Come  from  the  grave  to  mock  at  life 
And  lead  the  soul  till  lost 

In  wildering  maze  of  music's  strife. 
And  all  the  ample  front  of  genius  wore, 
And  one  sad  soul  that  was  a  friend  before. 

And  he  whose  guiding  wand 

Held  in  such  full  and  rich  accord 
That  vast  melodious  band 

Lo  he  was  Death  !  the  awful  lord 
Of  joy  and  sorrow,  from  whose  icy  breast 
Well  the  full  fountains  of  our  life's  unrest. 

Death  led  the  orchestra 

And  as  he  watched  the  thoughtless  throng 
He  hoarsely  laughed  ha  !  ha  ! 

''  Ha  !  ha  !  "  quoth  he,  ''  't  is  not  for  long 
These  puppets  mock  me  with  their  feeble  breath 
E'en  now  they  follow  in  the  dance  of  Death." 

Then  hushed  the  music's  swell 

Then  ceased  the  eager,  joyous  dance 


74  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

O'er  all  dread  silence  fell, 

And  dying  lights  forgot  to  glance 
Then  my  soul  shuddered  at  the  gathering  gloom, 
And  knew  at  last  the  palace  was  a  tomb. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  B ARRIS TER.  75 


MORNING  TWILIGHT. 

Before  earth's  fettered  beauties  are  released 
From  thrall  of  darkness,  and  of  veiling  mist, 

Ere  the  red  glow  is  kindled  in  the  East, 
And  the  far  hill-tops  by  the  sun  are  kissed, 

I  oftimes  gaze  upon  the  chilling  void 

Of  pulseless  nature,  and  my  heart  grows  cold, 

And  hope  and  love  within  me  seem  alloyed 
By  more  of  fear  and  doubt  than  could  be  told. 

So  when  Aurora  tints  each  snowy  cloud 

To  herald  Phoebus  in  his  robes  of  light. 
And  to  the  west  the  hurrying  shadows  crowd, 
And  nature  lifts  her  cloud,  oh  goodly  sight. 

Then  fly  the  shadows  from  my  gladening  heart. 
Then  breaks  hope's  sunshine  on  my  eager  eyes. 

Oh  then  my  doubts  and  cruel  fears  depart. 

The  sun  of  love  hath  dawned  within  my  skies. 


7^  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 

For  nature  now  commands  me  mourn  with  her 
Till  the  horizon  turns  for  red  from  grey, 

And  the  glad  lark  within  his  nest  astir 

Joins  with  my  heart  to  welcome  in  the  day. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  77 


DRINKING  SONG. 

Come  raise  your  goblets  boys,  and  pledge 

A  health  to  all  the  fair, 
But  let  each  see  within  the  cup 

His  loved  one  pictured  there  ; 
The  mantling  glow  upon  her  cheek, 

The  sparkle  of  her  eyes, 
Her  ruby  lips  whose  touch  would  tempt 

A  saint  from  Paradise. 

Again  fill  up,  life  was  not  made 

For  sorrow  or  for  tears  ; 
Away  with  care,  drown  out  with  wine 

These  base  foreboding  fears. 
To-morrow  comes — aye,  let  it  come, 

A  year  were  not  too  long 
Tc  spend  in  such  good  company 

With  mirth  and  wine  and  song. 


yS  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

We're  gods,  my  boys,  the  wreath  that  binds 

The  hero's  lofty  brow. 
Bears  not  one  half  the  matchless  light 

That  circles  round  us  now  : 
We're  gods,  each  drop  that  flows  to-night 

From  Bacchus'  veins  shall  be 
An  earnest  of  our  power  divine 

Our  immortality. 

Then  let  us  laugh  at  grim  old  death 

And  all  his  ghostly  crew — 
By  Jove,  'twould  warm  their  dry  old  bones 

Could  they  but  taste  our  brew  ; 
Then  fill  once  more  and  though  we  know 

Enough's  enough  for  some, 
We  jolly  gods  will  drink  to  drown 

The  thirst  that  is  to  come. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  79 


"  REST  MY  BABY  QUEEN." 

Rest  my  baby  queen  and  slumber, 
Thou  hast  reigned  too  long  to-day, 
Sleep  in  peace,  o'er  realms  of  dreamland 
And  the  fairies  hold  thy  sway, 
While  the  golden  locks  that  crown  thee 
O'er  thy  temples  gently  play. 

How  the  dim  light  gently  stealing 
Through  the  curtains  overhead. 
Throws  a  hundred  wav'ring  shadows 
On  thy  soft  and  snowy  bed. 
May  thy  spirit,  oh  my  darling. 
Have  no  darker  ones  to  dread. 

Rest  my  baby  queen,  thy  mother 
Watches  fondly  o'er  thy  sleep. 
In  her  heart  for  thee  are  swelling 
Hopes  and  fears  for  words  too  deep, 


8o  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 

Oh  !  there's  none  within  the  future 
Will  such  loving  vigil  keep. 

May  the  angels  guard  and  keep  thee 
Through  the  watches  of  the  night, 
May  thy  Saviour  through  life's  darkness 
Guide  thy  trembling  footsteps  right, 
Till  thou  rule  with  Him  forever 
Where  the  skies  are  always  bright. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  8 1 


WHEN  SHE  IS  GAY. 

When  she  is  gay,  her  laughing  eyes 
And  dimpled  rosy  cheek, 
And  curving  lips  and  cunning  ways 
Might  make  a  statue  speak  ; 
When  she  is  gay,  I  love  her  more 
By  far  I  think, than  e'er  before. 

When  she  is  sad,  her  downcast  eyes — 

The  tears  that  gently  creep, 

Like  pearls  adown  her  velvet  cheek 

Would  make  an  angel  weep  , 

I  love  her  more  when  on  my  breast 

She  lays  her  head  to  be  caressed. 

But  when  her  eyes  are  closed  in  sleep, 
Whose  dewy  tenderness 
Softens  her  face,  until  it  wears 
A  wond'rous  loveliness. 


82  BRIEFS  .BY  A  BARRISTER. 

Then  waking  beauties  all  depart 
For  then  I  hold  her  to  my  heart, 
Though  sad  or  joyful  dreams  befall 
Ah  then,  I  love  her  most  of  all. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  83 


FOUNTAINS  ABBEY. 

Thou  mouldering  pile  whose  solemn  pillars  lift 
Their  graceful  arches  to  the  summer  sky, 

Whose  ivy  draperies  the  soft  winds  shift 

And  wreath  and  mantle  round  thee  as  they  sigh — 

I  love  thee  well,  and  as  my  head  reclines 
Where  strange  deep  shadows  sleep  upon  the  lawn, 

Upon  thy  ruined  state  my  soul  repines 
While  musing  sadly  on  thy  glories  gone. 

The  sky  is  flecked  with  clouds  whose  fairy  forms 
March  past  the  frame  that  yawning  arches  make, 

In  calm  procession,  and  the  sunlight  warms 
The  scene  to  life  and  flashes  o'er  the  lake. 

All,  all  around  is  beautiful,  but  still 

I  scarcely  see  the  beauties  of  to-day, 
Nor  hear  the  song  birds  warbling  on  the  hill, 

Nor  the  brook  chattering  on  its  pebbly  way. 


84  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

My  heart  is  with  the  past,  and  to  my  eyes 
Fixed  lovingly  upon  yon  massive  pile, 

A  hundred  visions  from  the  past  arise 
And  fancy  builds  anew  the  roofless  aisle, 

And  hear  those  glorious  mellow  bells  ring  on 
That  in  the  olden  time  called  men  to  prayer, 

When  the  soft  colors  in  the  west  grew  wan 
And  mist  arose  like  incense  on  the  air. 

From  out  yon  lofty  tower  upon  whose  brow 
Hang  crests  of  green,  their  harmony  still  wells, 

And  time  and  ruin  can  scarce  banish  now 
The  inspiration  of  those  golden  bells. 

But  midnight  hears  them,  so  the  peasants  say, 
Ringing  out  sweetly  on  the  charmed  air. 

Swung  by  the  hands  of  many  a  lovely  fay. 

Who  dwells  and  weaves  a  soft  enchantment  there. 

All  that  can  speak  unto  a  human  heart — 
Of  grief  is  there,  and  as  the  accents  blend, 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  85 

From  my  sad  eyes  the  charms  of  sense  depart 
And  dreams  their  potent  necromancy  lend. 

A  long  processional  of  priests  in  grey 
Files  solemnly  adown  the  battered  aisle, 

I  see  their  gleaming  torches  on  the  way 
Light  up  the  fallen  glories  of  the  pile. 

A  spectre  host,  with  sorrow  in  their  eyes, 
And  at  their  head  the  abbot  as  of  old, 

Marches  majestic  in  his  regal  guise 

And  mitre  glistening  with  gems  and  gold. 

Silent,  unmoved  they  march  until  they  reach 

The  desecrated  altar,  and  they  see 
That  holy  place  where  holy  men  did  teach, 

Lain  low  to  mix  with  earth's  impurity. 

And  then  a  horror  fell  on  every  face 
And  a  long  shudder  ran  adown  the  line. 

While  on  each  ghostly  visage  I  could  trace 
A  bitterness  I  trust  may  ne'er  be  mine. 


86  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 

And  the  grave  abbot  raised  his  hands  on  high 
As  though  imploring,  strength  the  wreck  to  scan, 

Then  broke  from  silence  as  his  sorrowing  eye 
Fell  on  the  ruin  wrought  by  time  and  man. 

'^  Oh  God,  is  this  reform,  is  this  the  end 

For  which  so  long  they   strove   with  word  and 
sword, 

Is  this  the  homage  that  their  hearts  did  lend. 
Is  this  their  boasted  worship  of  the  Lord  ? ' 

"  These  vague  entablatures,  these  moesy  stones, 
Once  chiselled  into  beauty  and  to  life. 

E'er  in  their  silence  speak  in  solemn  tones 
Of  ruthless  fury  and  of  causeless  strive." 

"  Is  the  world  purer  that  our  sacred  rites 
Died  at  the  bidding  of  a  wicked  king. 

Or  is  the  hand  benevolent,  that  blights 
And  grasping  avarice  a  sacred  thing  !  " 

"  Where  hospitality  with  pitying  hand 
The  weary  wanderer  to  its  bosom  took. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  87 

Where  love  with  charity  each  failing  scanned 

And  warmed  with  kindness  whom  the  world  for- 
sook." 

'•  Now  melancholy  holds  her  gloomy  sway 
O'er  broken  arch  and  desecrated  shrine  ; 

There  all  the  day  do  broken  shadows  play 

And  dreary  winds  mourn  o'er  the  trailing  vine. 

*'  Where  learning  shone  and  in  religious  light 
Found  power  to  lift  the  darkness  from  mankind, 

Now  whirr  the  wings  of  sombre  birds  of  night 
And  o'er  the  altar  clambering  vines  are  twined. 

"  O  holy  church,  thou  Heaven-given  light  ! 

Is  man  still  blind  to  thy  inspiring  ray — 
How  long,  oh  God,  before  thy  lightnings  smite, 

How  long  before  thy  sword  is  raised  to  slay  !  " 

And  then  arose  a  sad  and  solemn  song 

Chanted  in  unison,  and  full  of  grief, 
As  if  each  heart  had  borne  its  sorrow  long, 

And  in  its  utterance  would  find  relief. 


88  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 

Now  swelling  high  it  sobbed  its  bitterness 
In  notes  complaining  to  the  very  sky, 

Then  died  away  in  plaintive  whisperings, 
And  sunk  to  silence  in  a  half-heard  sigh. 

Weak  faltering  words,  how  poorly  they  convey 
The  wondrous  harmony  that  wakes  in  sleep  ; 

That  thrills  the  heart  and  bids  it  hope  and  pray 
And  fills  the  soul  with  yearnings  pure  and  deep. 

For  in  some  dreams  our  spirits  tread  beneath 
Their  winged  feet  the  soul  restraining  clod, 

And  catch  an  echo  of  the  songs  that  rise 

In  matchless  sweetness  round  the  throne  of  God. 

So  seemed  the  song  I  heard,  and  when  I  woke 
Then  not  the  less  it  seemed  an  angel  song, 

And  ne'er  were  silence's  mystic  spells  ere  broke 
By  gentler  counter-charms — in  chorus  long. 

The  village  choir  of  little  children  sang 
A  simple  hymn,  but  from  those  lips  so  pure 

It  was  angelic,  and  those  dim  aisles  rang 
With  sweeter,  holier  echoes,  I  am  sure. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  89 

Than  they  had  known  for  many  a  lonely  year  ; 

Reconsecrate  they  soemed  by  that  soft  strain 
That  bore  so  much  to  hallow  and  endear 

That  I  again  to  catch  its  notes  would  fain. 

And  I  baptized  anew,  felt  all  my  pride 
And  foolish  questionings  of  God  depart  ; 

My  rage  at  man's  unpiety  subside, 

And  holy  calm  came  flooding  o'er  my  heart. 

Systems  arise  before  a  wondering  world 

And  play  their  parts,  and  vanish,  and  decay 

Preys  on  their  monuments,  statues  are  hurled 
Down  to  the  earth  to  mix  with  kindred  clay. 

But  naught  is  purposeless,  they  are  not  dumb, 
These  mouldering  ruins,  but  they  have  a  voice 

Speaking  from  silence  unto  those  who  come 
To  muse  upon  them,  and  it  saith — "  Rejoice, 

"  To  perish  is  to  live  once  more,  no  death. 
There  is  but  only  change,  like  man  we  fall 

That  we  may  give  our  praise  with  purer  breath 
To  Him  who  changeless  watches  over  all." 


CP  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 


FATE. 

Oh,  can  we  steer  our  fragile  bark  across 

The  stormy  ocean,  where  the  cruel  rocks 

And  treacherous  sands,  like  hungry  monsters  wait 

The  adventurous  mariner?     Nay,  at  the  helm 

The  inexorable  past,  with  gathered  power 

Of  centuries  maintains  despotic  sway  ; 

And  though  we  man  the  yards  and  trim  the  sails, 

Thinking  poor  atoms  to  direct  our  course — 

The  truth  remains,  that  we  must  still  obey 

The  things  that  have  been,  and  the  fate  that  is. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  9 1 


LYDIA. 

Suggested  by  otie  of  Daudet ' s  heroines. 

When  Lydia  assumes  her  regal  mien, 

Who  would  not  vow  she  looked  the  perfect  queen  ? 

And  having  bought  a  place  amid  her  train, 

Who  would  not  deem  himself  a  happy  swain  ? 

Who  would  not  swear  on  being  half  acquaint, 

That  Lydia  was  little  short  of  saint  ; 

And  who  that  gazed  her  liquid  orbs  within 

Would  think  such  ports  could  harbor  aught  of  sin  ? 

But  as  a  storm  oft  lurks  in  cloudless  skies, 

She  hides  herself  behind  her  glorious  eyes  : 

Thence  sails  she  forth  on  every  favoring  breeze. 

The  female  pirate  of  domestic  seas. 

A  sylph  in  body,  but  a  fiend  in  soul, 

With  face  that  knows  to  play  its  proper  role ; 

Sweet  is  her  smile,  till  she  has  drawn  one  in 

The  shining  web  the  spider  knows  to  spin. 


92  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

And  when  too  late  he  stops  to  count  the  cost, 
Bankrupt  of  peace  with  hope  and  honor  lost, 
She  flings  him  from  her  with  a  scornful  eye, 
And  leaves  him  caught,  to  struggle  and  to  die. 
With  hand  of  satin,  but  with  heart  of  stone, 
She  finds  a  jest  in  every  human  moan 
Pretending  sympathy,  unmoved  she  hears 
Affliction's  struggles — and  she  mocks  at  tears. 
Though  in  all  walks  of  life  her  actions  halt. 
She's  prompt  to  criticise  each  venial  fault  ; 
Before  her  poisoned  tongue  who  can  remain, 
Free  from  the  power  of  culumny  to  stain  ; 
While  like  Satanas,  when  he  sees  a  saint. 
By  sore  temptation  gone  beyond  restraint, 
She  smiles  to  think  one  character  the  less 
Remains  to  blame  her  cursed  loveliness  ; 
And  in  her  silvery  laugh  that  thrills  the  air, 
You  hear  the  devils  laughing  at  despair. 
Though  jealous  she,  as  if  she  really  loved, 
Her  hand  to  strangers  lips  is  e'er  ungloved. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  93 

To  feed  her  vanity,  without  ado, 

She'd  svv^ear,  dance,  drink,  or  go  a  denii  mie. 

She'd  win  you,  wear  you — if  you  were  the  fashion, 

(More  women  yield  through  vanity  than  passion.) 

Till  when  you  cease  to  interest  her  more, 

Or  sameness  wearies  ;  "  there,  my  friend  's  the  door." 

Alas,  that  gentle  speech  and  maddening  kiss, 

Should  chime  so  nearly  with  the  serpents  hiss. 

Alas,  fair  one,  that  thy  bewildering  toils 

Should  ever  close  and  crush  like  serpents  coils. 

As  ignorant  as  folly  with  her  bells, 

To  every  friend  some  little  failing  tells. 

And  all  unable  of  herself  to  rise. 

She  laughs  at  those  within  whose  eager  eyes, 

Learning  for  learning,  self  appears  a  prize  ; 

But  judging  all  men  by  the  guinea's  clink, 

A  diamonds  gleam  supplies  the  power  to  think. 

With  naught  but  vanity  or  cruel  dust. 

To  spur  to  thought  ;    a  creature  of  the  dust ; 

With  no  ambition,  save  to  basely  reign, 

And  no  religion  but  a  graceful  train  ; 


94  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

She  goes  through  life,  a  shadow  and  a  show, 

A  mocking  lure,  the  pride  of  imps  below. 

Selfish  and  cruel,  small  of  heart  and  mind, 

What  could  have  brought  this  curse  upon  mankind  ? 

Perchance  kind  Heaven  wishing  to  reveal, 

How  much  of  Hell  a  woman  could  conceal, 

Hath  framed  this  Circe  with  an  angel  face, 

And  winning  ways  to  harbor  all  disgrace  : 

To  be  a  warning  unto  all  our  youth — 

A  lie  may  live  behind  a  face  of  truth  ; 

And  passion's  cup  may  be  with  rosy  lips, 

A  life's  damnation  unto  him  who  sips. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  95 


FLOWERS  OF  PALESTINE. 

Stern  time  has  left  upon  the  landscape's  face, 

Of  Israel's  glory  scarce  a  lingering  trace  ; 

The  shining  cities  that  crowned  every  hill, 

Lie  in  their  ashes,  and  their  voice  is  still ; 

The  broken  rampart  and  the  crumbling  tower 

Alone,  attest  the  splendor  and  the  power. 

Of  Judah's  Lion,  and  implore  a  tear 

For  Palestine  so  wasted  and  so  dear. 

Ah,  sad  her  fallen  state,  an  impious  brood 

Of  Turkish  tyrants,  blinded  but  to  gain, 

Profane  with  impious,  hand  the  holy  rood, 

And  raze  her  glorious  ruins  to  the  plain. 

But  nature  guards  these  memories  of  eld 

And  adds  a  charm  to  all  this  hallowed  ground. 

Embalms  each  golden  legend  in  the  stone, 

And  strews  with  lavish  hand  sweet  flowers  around. 

Where  chilling  winds  mourn  Shiloh's  ruined  state, 

Or  whisper  wierdly  of  Samaria's  power. 


9^  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 

Or  whistle  round  the  houses  of  the  great, 
That  now  are  ruins — there  some  charming  flower, 
Smoothing  the  trace  of  time's  destroying  hand. 
Makes  beautiful,  what  were  too  sadly  grand. 
Oft'times  an  ancient  bridge  that  spans  a  stream, 
Adown  whose  dancing  tide  the  foam  flakes  gleam. 
Will  bear  fair  flowers  upon  its  crumbling  sides. 
That  press  and  cling  round  every  chink  and  seam 
Till  nature  joins  what  cruel  time  divides. 

As,  when  from  wasted  form,  the  last  faint  breath 
Has  sped,  and  suffering  is  calm  in  death, 
Some  gentle  hand  may  smooth  from  oft'  the  brow 
The  tangled  ringlets,  and  may  close  those  eyes, 
That  ne'er  were  opened  save  in  love  till  now  ; 
So  nature's  hand  has  brought  her  richest  dyes, 
To  smooth  the  furrows  of  thes^e  giant  hills. 
To  make  the  desert  blossom  like  the  rose, 
Till  loving  wonder  all  the  spirit  fills. 
And  there  is  left  no  resting  place  for  woes. 
Those  hills  of  adamant,  whose  rocky  crests 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  97 

Loom  grey  and  barren  'gainst  the  azure  sky, 

Where  seen  afar,  a  purple  halo  rests, 

With  lighter  tints  that  blend  with  blue  on  high  ; 

Bear  bright  anemones,  and  the  blooming  plain 

So  sweetly  challenged  blushes  back  again. 

There  nods  the  daisy,  and  our  spirits  roam 

Across  the  ocean  to  our  distant  home, 

And  thoughts  of  other  days  throng  thick  and  fast, 

And  sad  regrets  for  pleasures  that  are  past. 

The  blue-eyed  mary,  speaks  to  every  heart 

Of  her  most  blessed  of  women  here  below, 

Whose  face  immortal  with  the  touch  of  art, 

Speaks  of  divinest  love  and  deepest  woe. 

Bowing  its  graceful  head  upon  the  stem. 

Emblem  of  hope,  the  star  of  Bethlehem. 

Evokes  the  glorious  story  of  that  birth. 

That  angels  hailed  with  peace,  good  will  on  earth. 

A  loving  thought,  a  floral  memory. 

Sweet  star  of  Bethlehem  thou  seem'st  to  me, 

A  score  of  other  flowers  with  bloom  as  fair. 

Shed  their  sweet  perfume  on  the  gentle  air. 


98  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

A  hundred  inspirations  start  to  life, 
Mid  the  bright  mazes  of  this  floral  strife. 
But  mock  the  soul  with  fancies  too  divine, 
To  find  a  mirror  in  such  words  as  mine. 

Emblems  of  life  that  flourish  o'er  decay, 
Your  beauties  herald  still  a  brighter  day. 
The  man  has  seen.     Though  oft  o'er  Galilee, 
The  crimson  dawn  hath  spread  its  banners  wide 
Among  the  clouds,  and  heavenly  alchemy, 
Blent  with  the  purple  of  the  mountain  side. 
Entrance  the  eye,  and  gleaming  o'er  the  lake 
Command  all  slumbering  nature  to  awake  : 
A  brighter  dawning,  a  more  glorious  light 
Will  beam  on  Galilee  and  all  the  earth, 
And  the  mute  prophets  of  each  rocky  height, 
Dazzling  like  purest  gems  of  wondrous  worth. 
Will  don  such  colors  as  man  never  sees. 
Save  in  the  rainbow  tintings  of  the  sky. 
In  honor  of  their  Christ,  and  on  the  breeze 
Will  waft  a  fragrance  that  shall  never  die. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  99 

And  with  the  beautiful  of  soul,  the  flowers 
Shall  ever  number,  though  their  earthly  form, 
Wither  and  fall  mid  earth's  decaying  bowers, 
In  bloom   eternal  they  shall  live,  where  comes  no 
storm. 


lOO  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 


COLLEGE    POEMS. 


A  VISION  OF  AUTUMN. 

Playfully  the  fresh  wind  rustles 

Through  the  tossing,  gleaming  leaves, 

Many  a  shimmering  rift  of  sunlight 
Through  the  trees  the  grass  receives. 

All  the  air  seems  palpitating, 
Quivering  with  hope  and  life, 

In  the  boughs  the  birds'  sweet  singing 
Blends,  a  maze,  of  charming  strife. 

On  the  grass  the  lengthening  shadows 
From  the  trees  and  houses  fall, 

Silently  they  gloom  and  darken 
Till  they  blend  and  cover  all 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  1 01 

Only  in  the  mellow  distance 

Rises  high  a  slender  spire, 
That  the  setting  sun  has  gilded 

With  a  touch  of  golden  fire. 

Sadness  gathers  with  the  darkness, 

And  the  evening  mists  begin 
O'er  the  earth  to  wreathe  and  whiten, 

So  I  slowly  turn  within. 

Sadness  fits  the  soul  for  dreaming, 
Phantoms,  view  my  wondering  eyes, 

From  the  darkness  of  my  chamber 
Visions  of  the  past  arise. 

Sits  a  student  by  the  table, 

In  his  bright  and  ''  morning  face,'* 

Blend,  the  shades  of  grief  dispelling, 
Laughing  light  and  winning  grace. 

In  his  eyes  the  love-light  kindles 
As  he  reads  a  letter  o'er, 


I02  BIHEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 

Gently  smiling,  as  he  ends  it — 
Only  to  begin  once  more. 

Soon  he  vanished,  lo  another 
Bodied  forth  before  my  gaze, 

'T  is  a  student  on  whose  forehead 
Shadows  rest  of  mournful  days. 

He  is  reading,  too,  a  letter, 
And  the  bitter,  scalding  tear 

Tells  the  sad,  the  old,  old  story 
Of  the  grave,  the  pall,  the  bier  : 

Now  the  world  is  bathed  in  splendor, 
Now,  't  is  shrouded  all  in  gloom. 

Lights  must  gleam,  and  shadows  darken 
Even  in  the  student's  room.  : 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  IO3 


DAY  DREAMS. 

He.  whom  fond  imagination 

Leadeth  by  her  mystic  hand 
Through  the  realms  of  the  ideal, 

Through  that  strange  and  dreamy  land, 

Ever  clothes  the  world  in  beauty, 
Turns  dark  Winter  into  Spring, 

And  mid  all  his  airy  castles 
Bid  unceasing  music  ring. 

With  him  joy  is  ever  present, 
And  amid  love's  wild'ring  maze 

Golden  hours  and  crystal  minutes 
Lead  along  his  happy  days. 

Brightly  hope's  prophetic  pencil 

With  celestial  spirit  fired, 
Paints  upon  the  future's  curtain 

All  ambition  has  inspiied. 


I04  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 

x\nd  the  sad  reverberations 
Of  each  slowly  tolling  bell 

Sound  like  silver  chimes  that  promise, 
For  the  future,  all  things  well. 

As  the  leaves  of  golden  Autumn 
Are  the  fairest  on  the  trees, 

When  they  wait  but  for  the  wooing 
Of  the  wind-harp's  symphonies. 

So  when  our  day  dreams  are  brightest 
And  their  bonds,  so  light  to  bear, 

Make  us  willing,  loving  captives, 
Soon  they  melt  into  the  air. 

As  the  sun  although  departed 
Ever  leaves  some  trace  behind, 

In  the  fleecy  clouds  soft  gilding, 
In  the  warm  and  balmy  wind  ; 

So  as  memory  doth  lead  us 

Down  the  dim  aisles  of  the  past, 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  I05 

Wav'ring  shadows  of  our  day  dreams 
On  our  time-worn  path  are  cast. 

And  each  weird  and  changeful  shadow 

Beckons  with  its  ghost-like  hand, 
Urges  e'en  in  deathlike  silence 

To  the  good,  the  true,  the  grand. 


I06  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 


OUR  SONGS. 

Amid  the  starlit  silence  of  the  night, 

Beneath  the  rustling  elm  trees  dappled  shade, 

From  blended  voices  rise  our  college  songs, 
And  echo  softly  through  each  leafy  glade. 

A  maiden  slumbers  and  her  fair  young  face, 
Bathed  in  the  dewy  tenderness  of  sleep, 

Beams  with  a  smile,  as  through  her  dream-led  brain 
In  bright  succession  fairy  fancies  creep. 

Faint,  from  the  witching  distance,  sweetly  borne 
Upon  her  ear,  the  mellow  cadence  swells, 

And  half  awake  she  thinks  her  dreams  are  real, 
And  to  the  listening  night,  her  visions  tel^s. 

She  hears,  as  on  the  wind  the  song  expires. 

One  silvery  voice,  whose  tones,  well  knows  her 
heart. 

That  sounds  through  all  her  castles  in  the  air. 
And  doth  new  magic  to  each  hope  impart. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  IO7 

Over  his  dreary  task  a  student  sits, 

While  on  the  ancient,  cobwebbed,  grimy  wall, 
From  lamplight  streaming  o'er  each  grotesque  shape, 

A  hundred  odd  fantastic  shadows  fall. 

He  rests  his  head  upon  his  hand,  and  dreams 
Of  a  bright  future,  of  enduring  fame, 

Nay,  in  his  thoughts  e'en  now  ambition  graves 
On  fame's  grand  column  his  immortal  name. 

The  music's  spell  o'er  his  tired  spirit  steals 
And  finds  responsive  echoes  in  his  heart, 

So  in  wild  chaos  strewn  he  leaves  his  books, 
And  seeks  the  fence  to  lend  the  song  his  part. 

Youth  ever  lives  within  a  golden  age 

Where  music  weaves  its  wreaths  of  golden  dreams. 
Farewell  to  dreamless  sleep,  to  toil,  to  care, 

'Neath  spell  of  music  and  of  starry  beams. 


1 08  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 


A  DOLLAR  OR  SO. 

Our  Tom  is  an  excellent  fellow, 
Gay,  witty,  handsome  and  free ; 

In  field  or  in  cloister  a  marvel — 
A  notable  Crichton  is  he. 

But  one  deplorable  failing, 

It  causes  us  deepest  regret. 
For  among  Tom's  various  talents, 

He's  a  talent  for  getting  in  debt. 

We'd  forgive  him  his  bills  at  the  tradesmen's, 
His  dread  of  some  people  we  meet. 

The  fact,  when  he  goes  to  the  boat-house. 
He  can  go  by  only  one  street : 

But  he  borrows  from  every  acquaintance — 
He  wants  it  for  ^'  only  to-day  " — 

Some  insignificant  trifle 

They  never  would  ask  him  to  pay. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  IO9 

And  Tom's  such  a  high-minded  fellow, 

He  thinks  not  of  matters  so  low, 
And — all  of  his  friends  are  the  victims 

Of  '^  Lend  me  a  dollar  or  so," 

Refer,  howe'er  gently,  to  payment — 
You  so  overwhelmed  with  his  grief 

That  you'd  lend  him  your  ultimate  quarter 
To  give  the  poor  fellow  relief. 

But  again  in  a  week  he  returneth, 

"  To  trip  the  fantastic  I  go  ; 
My  dress  coat  is  down  at  my  uncle's ; 

Pease  lend  me  a  dollar  or  so." 

If  he  dies  in  the  world's  estimation. 

The  cause  let  this  epitaph  show  , 
He  was  generous,  handsome  and  brilliant. 

But  he  died  of — a  dollar  or  so. 


I  lO  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 


DISCONSOLATE. 

Oft  have  I  seen  him  wandering  alone. 

With  mournful,  downcast  eye  and  footstep  slow. 
When  naked,  shivering  boughs  above  him  groan, 
And  cold  winds  blow. 

What  griefs  are  his  ?     Is  his  sad  heart  o'ercast 

By  bitter  memories  of  days  gone  by, 
Dark  shadows  called  up  from  the  phantom  past 
That  never  fly  ? 

And  as  I  pass  him,  silently  he  turns 

With  longing  gaze.     Sometimes  his  pale  lips  part 
To  body  forth  a  sad  refrain  that  burns 
Into  my  heart. 

And  then,  he  loves  too  well  to  steal  away 

My  choice  cigars,  and  cheat  me  if  he  can. 
Betimes  I  wish  that  somebody  would  slay 
That  old  clothes  man. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  1 1 1 


A  GEOLOGICAL  ROMANCE. 

On  the  shore  of  the  ocean  primeval, 

In  dim  geological  times, 
'Neath  bowers  of  flourishing  Fucoids, 

The  heroine  dwelt  of  my  rhymes. 

In  telling  the  charms  of  a  lady, 
We  give  but  fractional  praise ; 

Propriety  holds  down  the  curtain 
We're  secretly  wishing  to  raise. 

But  I'll  give  the  fullest  description, 
Me  modesty  need  not  appall ; 

This  maid  had  a  head  and  a  body. 
A  delicate  skin  over  all, 

She'd  a  mouth,  a  foot  microscopic, 
In  manner  was  mild  as  a  lamb ; 

In  short  she  was  only  a  bivalve, 
A  mollusk,  a  salt-water  clam. 


1 12  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

She  was  happy  and  careless  as  ever 
Clams  are,  until  she  was  taught 

The  lesson  of  love  by  an  oyster, 

And  the  sweet  little  creature  was  caught. 

Oft  they  met  in  a  grove  of  the  Algae, 
The  silvery  sand  was  their  sod, 

And  they  whispered  their  love  to  each  other 
While  warbled  the  Brachiopod. 

Echmoderms  sported  round  them  ; 

The  Polyps  with  joy  at  the  sight 
Struck  work  at  making  th(  ir  corals, 

And  went  on  a  general  "tight." 

Said  he,  "  Be  my  bride,  O  thou  elfish 
Gay  naiad."     "  O  yes,  my  dear  lad, 

But  mount  some  moveable  shellfish. 
And  ask  my  respectable  dad  " 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER,  1 1 3 

"  Lamellibranchiate  honored." 

The  Acephal  opened  his  shell, 
And  bowed  in  proud  condescension 

To  hear  what  news  he  would  tell. 

*'  I  Ve  aspired  to  \\\^  foot  of  your  daughter, 

Although  a  plebian  I  am, 
O  quiet  this  passionate  yearning 

By  the  gift  of  your  dear  little  clam.'"' 

"  Rash  upstart,  depart  from  my  presence, 

Such  longmgs  are  folly  in  you, 
Do  you  think  I'd  marry  my  daughter 

To  an  oyster,  a  mere  parvenu  ?" 

^'  Your  ventral  segment's  entirely 

Too  large  for  one  of  the  ton, 
You've  only  one  hinge  to  your  shell,  sir, 

You're  an  object  to  moralize  on." 

Then  the  oyster  turned  away  sadly, 
His  pallium  drew  o'er  his  head. 


1 14  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

'*  Oh  moUusk,  oh  clam,  stony-hearted, 
I  wish  to  the  deuce  I  were  dead." 

He  turned  to  his  dear  little  bivalve, 
(A  rudimentary  eye 
,       Just  now  would  be  really  welcome, 
For  pathos  demandeth  a  cry.) 

Then  she  said,  ''  Let  us  fly  from  my  father 

Some  azoic  island  our  goal. 
Pooh  !  wicked  !"  (How  very  convenient 

It  is  not  having  a  soul.) 

"We  will  rear  us  a  house  of  the  sea- weed, 
What  happiness  greater  than  this, — 

To  have  a  pre-adamic  Eden 

With  the  joys  of  connubial  bliss  ^ " 

She  yielded,  and  straightway  they  mounted. 
On  a  swift  sailing  argonaut's  shell, 

"  Come  back,  come  back,"  followed  after 
In  tones  they  knew  but  too  well. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  1 1  5 

But  horrors  !  a  cuttle-fish  rising 

Bumped  into  their  vessel  by  chance. 

It  tumbled  them  into  the  water, 
And  ended  their  little  romance. 

Like  the  whale  that  gobbled  up  Jonah, 

He  took  each  into  his  maw, 
But  unlike  the  whale's,  his  digestion 

Followed  quite  the  natural  law. 

On  the  shore  of  the  ocean  primeval, 

Where  the  Apiocystis  doth  grow, 
There  is  heard  a  grating  of  clam-shells. 

That's  highly  expressive  of  woe. 


I  1 6  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER' 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SADNESS. 

In  the  mellowed  glow  of  the  twilight, 
I'm  sitting  and  thinking  alone, 

And  sweet  is  the  sound  of  the  wind-harp. 
As  it  telleth  of  joys  that  have  flown. 

And  my  soul  is  accord  with  the  music 
That  breathes  in  the  tops  of  the  trees, 

And  my  eye  in  each  shadow  fantastic 
The  spirit  of  mournfulness  sees. 

And  over  my  being  the  syren 
A  subtle  enchantment  has  cast  ; 

No  longer  I  look  in  the  future, 
But  sadly  I  gaze  on  the  past. 

'T  is  the  realm  of  the  spirit  of  sadness. 
And  sweet  are  the  murmurs  that  fill 

Each  mountain  and  dale  ;    but  they  echo 
With  many  a  voice  that  is  still. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  1 1 ; 

The  chiming  of  silvery  voices, 

And  the  fragrant  floweret's  breath 

Float  by,  but  the  breezes  are  tainted 
By  sorrow  and  weeping  and  death. 

The  noble,  the  true  aspirations 

That  thrill  as  they  wake  in  the  soul, 

Are  deaf  to  the  song  of  the  banquet, 
Are  still  in  the  "  Knights  of  the  bowl," 

But  stirred  by  the  voices  of  sadness 

The  highest  emotions  arise 
In  the  bosom  of  man,  and  the  sorrow 

That  dwells  in  the  depths  of  his  eyes. 

Is  changed  into  peace,  and  the  cypress 
Gives  place  to  a  crown  of  the  bay ; 

Grief  turneth  to  joy  as  the  darkness 
Melts  into  the  flush  of  the  day. 


1 1 8  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 


ON  THE  BAY. 

The  sun's  last  gleams   have   died  on  the  ocean's 

breast, 
His  crowning  glories  left  each  purple  crest, 
The  gold  has  melted  from  the  clouds  away 
And  nature  mourns  in  gloom  the  dying  day. 

And  now  the  azure  vault  is  studded  all 
With  twinkling  stars  whose  quiv'ring  arrows  fall. 
Quick,  darting,  down  the  clear  etherial  steep 
And  wake  to  sparkling  smiles  the  tossing  deep. 

While  far  adown  the  eastern  sky  serene 
Announced  by  wav'ring  path  of  silver  sheen, 
The  moon  arises  and  her  witching  light 
Wraps  all  the  senses  in  a  calm  delight. 

Fast  flying  on  before  a  fav'ring  gale, 
Over  the  gleaming  bay,  with  every  sail 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER  1 1 9 

Spread  to  the  wind,  our  boat  speeds  on  her  way, 
Dashing  the  curling  waves  to  crystal  spray. 

And  as  we  chase  the  glowing  hours  along, 
We  time  their  footsteps  with  a  merry  song, 
The  music  ripples  down  our  foaming  track 
Till  distant  cliffs  send  ringing  echoes  back. 

How  many  a  twice-told  tale's  repeated  then, 
And  all  applaud  till  echo  lands  again, 
How  float  the  smoke-wreaths  to  the  starry  skies. 
And  common  pleasure  strengthens  friendship's  ties. 

And  as  we  pass  we  hear  the  waves  and  tides 
Dashing  and  gurgling  round  each  vessel's  sides. 
While  faint  and  dreamy  to  our  tossing  boat 
The  chimes  of  inland  bells  so  m.ellow  float. 

Homeward  we  turn  for  o'er  the  water's  face 
The  veiling  mist  is  creeping  on  apace. 
Trailing  its  humid  garments  o'er  the  sky. 
And  soon,  too  soon,  the  starry  beauties  die. 


I20  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER. 

And  as  we  moor  our  boat  beside  the  land, 
Or  tread  with  lingering  step  the  speckled  sand, 
A  shade  of  sorrow  o'er  our  joy  is  cast — 
Another  golden  day  of  dream-life's  past. 


BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER.  1 2 1 


PARTING  ODE. 

Farewell,  farewell  !  sweet  echoes  rise 

From  out  our  happy  past, 
And  as  we  list,  our  saddening  eyes 

With  tears  are  overcast. 
Oh,  halcyon  days  that  joy  and  youth 

Have  made  almost  divine. 
The  end  has  come,  oh,  bitter  truth, 

Your  suns  no  longer  shine. 

Four  years  have  been  a  sweet  romance, 

All  free  from  sombre  care, 
A  visioi  in  a  gentle  trance, 

Soft  floating  in  the  air  ; 
Now  comes  the  sad  awakening, 

Now  fades  our  lovely  dream. 
While  memories  the  moments  bring 

For  earth  too  lovely  seem. 


122  BRIEFS  BY  A  BARRISTER, 

But  every  glowing,  happy  hour, 

With  all  the  joy  it  knew, 
Will  wake  and  thrill  with  wondrous  power 

Our  slumbering  souls  anew, 
Yes,  when  our  locks  are  turning  grey 

We'll  live  this  life  once  more. 
Again  our  spirits  will  be  gay, 

As  in  the  days  of  yore. 

But  sad  the  thought  will  ever  be 

Of  this  our  last  farewell : 
Still,  though  we  part,  old  Yale,  from  thee. 

Thy  glories  we  will  tell ; 
And  for  the  sake  of  what  has  been, 

Of  peace  and  love  and  glee. 
We'll  ever  hold,  our  hearts  within. 

Thy  name,  dear  Seventy-three. 


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